


The Carnival Is Never Over

by sweetcarolanne



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bittersweet, Carnival, Character Death, Circus, Clowns, Crossdressing, F/F, Ghosts, Hopeful Ending, Romance, Soulmates, Teen Romance, Trick or Treat: Chocolate Box, Trick or Treat: Trick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 03:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12572492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetcarolanne/pseuds/sweetcarolanne
Summary: One night each year, two long-parted lovers are reunited...





	The Carnival Is Never Over

**Author's Note:**

  * For [havisham](https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/gifts).



> Dear havisham, I hope you like this little extra piece your prompt about sad clowns inspired! <3
> 
> Many thanks to my anonymous beta.

Her face is deeply lined with age, and her once golden curls are white as swansdown now, but her fine cheekbones and the bird-like slenderness of limbs and waist have not changed with the years. 

Still delicately lovely in her spangled bodice with the silver threads and pearls, and a flowing, gauzy skirt pinker than cotton candy billowing around her hips, she twirls across the polished floor towards her gold-framed mirror as the music of a long-ago carnival sweeps her memories back to when she had just turned sweet sixteen and never danced alone.

When the moon shines, the reflection she sees in the glass is no longer her own, and she smiles whilst a single tear runs down her cheek.

Moonlight shows to her a beloved face, pale as alabaster; beneath a closely fitted cap of scarlet velvet, those shining locks of hair are the same blue-black they always were. A beautiful girl dressed as a beautiful boy reaches to touch the dancer’s trembling hand, her brightly painted smile both joyous and sad. A smile so radiant with happiness at seeing her true love once again, but tinged with sorrow as the mirror and death have kept the pair apart so long.

The dancer places a kiss against the cold surface, whispering her sweet clown’s name so softly that only their two souls can hear the word.

With each passing year, the visage in the mirror is less misty, more distinct, and when age-worn lips brush against lips smooth and young for all eternity, this time the dancer almost feels their tender warmth.

She hears the distant notes of a calliope, and sees the shimmering whirl of a carousel on the mirror’s other side. She sees her loved one’s mouth form one silent word as she draws back reluctantly, and knows that it is “soon.”

The dancer lays her faded cheek against the looking-glass, and prays to reach the everlasting carnival by midnight’s stroke.


End file.
